


Heaven and Hell

by Phoenix_Ryzing



Series: Original Fiction [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angels, Character Death, Deal with a Devil, Death, Demons, Devils, Fallen Angels, Gen, Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 04:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19433605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Ryzing/pseuds/Phoenix_Ryzing
Summary: Ah, the supernatural: demons and angels and ghosts and afterlives--controversial, yet such a ripe field for stories.As per the title, these stories take place in a world where Christian mythos is accurate--though I may divert from it every now and again, because why be predictable?(Note: any comments about respect or accuracy or starting an argument will be ignored, this is just for fun please!)Rated M for some elements, but each story will be rated individually and warned individually.





	1. Regretful Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> Warning: Occult, Blood and Guts

“So do we have a deal?” he asks, holding out a pale, slender hand for me to shake.

I stare at it for a long moment and chew my lower lip. Around me drifts smoke from the incense candles I had lit, the firelight reflecting on the many crosses in the room. The wards kept out the lesser demons, but . . . . 

“I said, do we have a deal?” the man repeats, a trace of irritation in his honey-like voice. I flinch, then take a steadying breath and raise my eyes.

“To be left alone by all creatures of Hell, including yourself, for eternity, in return for my Sight,” I repeat. “No more, no less, and no twisting of words. Correct?” I ask, trying to read his face with no success.

He sees my attempt and smiles. “As you have said,” he says simply. Shifting from one shiny, dress shoe to another, he added, “Now, while I am eternal, I am quite busy, so I suggest answering soon,” he said.

 _Probably just wants to go torment someone else_ I think to myself. I take a deep breathe, and gingerly take his hand. “Deal,” I say.

He smiles joyfully, though it comes across more as predatory. “A pleasure doing business with you,” he says, releasing my hand from a fiery grip and instantly vanishing.

I collapse to my knees as a cloud seems to enter my mind. I couldn’t sense _anything_ anymore, and though my eyes still saw the bloody carpet beneath me, my Sight was truly gone. _Good_ I think. _No more being tormented, forever. No more whips or burns or lies, no more pain. I’m free._

_I’m free . . . ._

So why did I feel like something was terribly, terribly wrong?

The demons were banished from my home. . . so why did I feel like they surrounded me?

Looking up, I gasp, and let out a blood-curdling scream.

The walls, before covered with religious icons, now were covered with corpses hanging from chains, blood dripping from their opened chests into bowls set below them. The smoke from the home-made candles smells like rotten fat, and now stood positioned around an intricate rune on the floor--a rune centered on me.

I scramble to my feet and shriek, clutching my head as memories flood back. The torment I had felt on my body had truly been on these corpses, corpses of my friends, family, strangers--deals made, deals sealed in blood, deals for immortality, for eternal youth, for ignorance of authorities, for untold powers, and finally, for forgetting I’d done all of it. For believing I was a holy woman, not a demon-summoner.

I retch, but nothing comes up but blood--blood I recognize as coming from the bowls, which only makes me retch harder. What had I done? _What had I DONE?!_

There’s a blinding flash of light, and an inhumane figure appears, raising a flaming sword to cut me down. Suddenly, I remember _why_ I had the Sight--to protect me not from demons, but from _Them_.

I can only scream as the blinding figure cuts me down, sword cleaving through me as though I was merely air. I feel my body turn to ash, to dust, every particle burned to a cinder. My soul I had lost long ago--but now, as all my senses are stripped from me, I find I cannot die. Hell had a seat reserved for me before I bargained it away, and I curse my last deal--

Only a devil could save me from the torment of dusty life, but I had ordered my only saviour away . . . . and for that, now I will pay.


	2. Which One?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13
> 
> Warning: Death

"What do you mean, I get to choose?" you say, staring at the Reaper in front of you.

The Reaper shrugged. "You get to choose. Where do you wanna head? Nirvana, Heaven, Olympus, Earth? Do you want to reincarnate, or be a ghost? Or would you rather disperse into the ether?"

You blink rapidly, and say, "Uh- um- I don't... I don't know..."

The Reaper smiled, an action that was supposed to be kind but came off as creepy. "Take all the time you need. I'm in no rush."

You nod, and walk off a little ways. Around you are other spirits, all in the nude like yourself, all trying to decide. The area was... pleasant. All grey mist sure, but a light, warm kind of mist, an early-summer morning mist. Wandering around as well were different guides to the afterlife- Reapers, Iris, Angels, Gods. You wave at some of them, and they respond in their own way.

You wander, and think.

Thing is, you never _believed_ in the afterlife. You thought it was all rot- why would their be an invisible world that "souls" went to after death? Death was the end, wasn't it? That's what you'd thought, and how you'd lived, making every second count. 

"I don't... I don't want to die..." you muttered. You still had so much to _do_. You were engaged. You hadn't visited Egypt yet, or Taiwan. Your dear mother needed your care before she passed.

It just wasn't _fair._ You were young, vibrant. You loved Life and the world and wanted nothing more to keep living till you were old and grey. 

You closed your eyes. It hadn't been fair, your death. People your age didn't die, not like that. Oh, some did, but it was rare. Not anyone you'd known had died like _that_.

"I just want to go back," you whispered.

"Go back? That's your choice?" the Reaper said, materializing behind you.

You jump and spin around. "That- that's an option?!"

"Of course it is. Haven't you heard of near-death experiences? People die and go back, even if it means to a broken body and terrible trauma. I must warn you, your death was grisly. You won't be as fit as you once were. Do you accept that?"

You thought for a long, long minute. Then you said slowly, "I know it'll be hard. And maybe I'll regret it. But I won't know unless I try, won't I? I can always die again and choose something else."

The Reaper hummed. "Not necessarily."

You blink. "What do you mean, not necessarily?"

The Reaper placed a bony hand on your shoulder and said gently, "You can only pick once. You get one extra life, one after-life. After that, you just..."

"...disappear. Right?" you said.

The Reaper nodded. "That's the rules. I'm sorry."

You bend your head... and then, raise it and square your shoulders. "Send me back."

The Reaper cocked it's head. "You sure? You'll choose eternal oblivion?"

"I was expecting that anyways," you explained. "I've accepted it. What's the point of going on and on for eternity? I'll just grew tired of it. This way, I can truly appreciate what time I have left."

The Reaper paused, then smiled. "Not often we get people who truly understand Life like you do. Alright. Close your eyes," it instructed, and you did so. 

And as you felt yourself drift away, you heard Death say, "And for your earnest heart, a gift. You will get your wish. You will live a long life. Whether it is a good life is up to you. But I'm sure you will make every moment count."

_I will. I promise._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this: https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/186114852375/wait-a-minute-youre-not-the-devil-true-im
> 
> Dun summon demons kiddos

"B-but!" Horatio--real name Harold--sputtered. "I--!"

The Demons Who Name Cannot Be Pronounced, nicknamed Josh, raises a hand to cut his off. "No buts. You're what, _fifteen?_ Come on man. Grow up," he says, crossing his arms. "At least wait till you're _valuable_."

Hortatio scowls, a look Josh was sure he practiced in the mirror constantly, and says, "I'm an adult--wait, valuable?!" he says, voice squeaking in indignation. "What's that mean?!"

Josh rolls his eyes and says, "Kid. What in Hell's name makes you think we'd _want_ your soul?"

"Because--that's your thing!" the teenager replies. "You trade souls for great powers--"

The being older than time itself cuts off the twerp with a loud groan, resting his head in his hands. "No no no--souls, how did you _manage_ to summon _anything_ with that little knowledge?!" he asks, not looking up.

Horatio crosses his arms and says, "It took great research--" he starts, motioning at the occult set-up around him.

"From what, your local library?" Josh asks incredulously. He lowers his hands and looks at the set-up more closely before groaning again, and with a flick of his wrist summoned a rather normal-looking folder.

"What's that?" Horatio asks, peering at it curiously.

"Your file. Shut up," Josh replies, scanning the document within. 

Horatio, lacking the sense God gave a rock, tries "sneakily" to look over at it, but stops with a yip when Josh glares at him. "Oh come on, let me see it!" Horatio protests. "What is it, a list of my sins or something?"

Josh just looks Hellward as if asking for patience, then says, "No. We don't bother with that. Now _shut up_ ," he says, flicking his hand, and suddenly Horatio claps a hand to his mouth as it was sewn shut.

The annoying brat kept making noises and trying to free his lips, but Josh ignored him. "Let's see . . . who gave you the book . . . ah. Sarah. I need to have words with her," he says, dropping the folder that magically vanishes. 

He pops out of existence for a second, much to Horatio's shock, only to reappear with an annoyed look on his face. "Right right you can talk now," he says. " _Bye_. Do _not_ try this again," the demon says, vanishing again with a notable lack of flare.

Horatio glares gloomily at the spot where Josh had been, and mutters, "Don't tell me what to do. I must have done the spell wrong--where is--" he turns to look for his book of spells, only to notice it had vanished and been replaced with a folder labeled, "The Proper Incantation You Moron."

Horatio hops a little in glee, and hurriedly picks up the file and opens it--

\--and the moment his pathetic, earthly eyes set sight on the charm, his head explodes.

* * *

"So that's how I got rid of the pest," Josh finishes, downing his drink and clattering his glass on the bar counter. "What's ya story?"


End file.
